The Missing Piece
by carroussella
Summary: Somewhere along the way, I forgot about the consequences. Spoilers for 3x03 "Follow the Leader", 3x04 "Whatever It Takes", 3x10 "Terror". Part 2 of the Love Triangle series, focusing on Sam Braddock.
1. Prologue

_**The Missing Piece  
>Part 2 of 3: Sam Braddock<strong>_

**Fandom:** Flashpoint**  
>Pairing:<strong> Sam/Jules; Jules/Steve  
><strong>Category:<strong> Friendship, Romance  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T_  
><strong>SHORT STORY; 3-PART SERIES<strong>_

**Disclaimer:** As much as I'd love to, I don't own Flashpoint, and all characters remain property of the show's wonderful scriptwriters. All original characters and plots are mine. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Synopsis: **Somewhere along the way, I forgot about the consequences. Spoilers for 3x03 "Follow the Leader", 3x10 "Terror"

**Series Note:** This series is probably the only work of fiction that I have ever put so much effort into – re-watching episodes (that's not the hard part), transcribing, writing episode notes, pausing at each and every moment. It took me 2 ½ hours just to finish going through "Terror" and writing notes on it. So it was preparation-intensive, very exhausting, but very, very, very satisfying so I'm not complaining.

The inspiration for this series comes from one of my long-time favorite fic authors from another fandom, who wrote beautifully about the same relationship from the POV of three characters. I am shamelessly borrowing her idea and adopting it to our favorite FP couple, and I hope I do her justice.

**Author's Note:** Part 2 of a 3-part series, told from Sam Braddock's point of view. It's fairly difficult to write from Sam's POV during this entire Steve-Jules debacle because all he gives are long suffering, sad puppy dog looks and doesn't really say much. So, I am just interpreting those looks in my own way and trying to keep things as canonical as possible. Although this story can be read on its own, I've always intended for it to be read together with the other 2 parts, so do read _**Part 1 – Almost No Regrets (Steve Morgan)**_ if you haven't already. (You can get to it by accessing my profile) As usual, please do drop a comment to let me know you're reading… I always love to hear from my readers.

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><p><em><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>_

It's Friday night and the café is bustling, nearly bursting at the seams with patrons walking in and out. The mere humdrum from just an hour earlier has exploded into a cacophony of noise; people are chatting loudly, without a care in the world, and somewhere, near the back of the café, a large group suddenly bursts into laughter, the sound echoing throughout.

I barely register the people around me, leaning back into my chair as the words of an earlier conversation plays over and over in my head like an unbroken audio loop.

All I see are smiles around me; friends talking and joking with each other, lovers laughing. Yet here I am, all alone, feeling like my heart has just been shattered.

Who am I kidding? My heart _has_ just been shattered. I feel like someone has taken it out of my chest, stomped all over it, and now all I have left are the broken pieces. And I don't know where, or how, to start picking them up and putting them back together.

I would be lying if I said I hadn't been preparing for this night all day, but sometimes, the best preparation is inadequate for the surprises life throws at you.

My heart had been steeled, and I was prepared for what was going to be said – what I knew she was going to say. But once again, Julianna Callaghan had a way of pulling the floor from under my feet, and I was left, once again, standing in uncertain waters.

Who the hell says "I love you" during a break up?

I run my hands through my hair in frustration, letting out a deep sigh. It wasn't supposed to be this way. It wasn't supposed to _end_ this way.

_What was it supposed to be then? _

I pondered the little voice in my head, the mocking tone cutting deep. What exactly had I been expecting when I started seeing Jules?

A quick fix? A convenient and temporary lay?

I'd never intended for it to get this far. We were never supposed to be exclusive, or progress to girlfriend, boyfriend. We were just two colleagues who saw too much horror in the world and needed to seek comfort in the only way we knew how – physically.

Finding release together had become a drug we both craved, something we needed. It was the light at the end of our dark tunnels and we were so drawn to it that somewhere along the way, we forgot about the consequences.

Somewhere along the way, _I_ forgot about the consequences.

I gave my heart away.

It was never supposed to be this way. I never had a problem with loving-and-leaving women before. Hell, that was what the army was about. You never formed a long lasting relationship because it was easier that way. Easier never having to say goodbye, easier never having to explain your absences, easier never having to talk about the job and the things you see.

So I wasn't quite sure when my feelings for Jules changed.

It had started just as an attraction. I've always been drawn to the tough chicks, the ones who have a mind of their own and can hold their own in a bar fight. I'm not talking about the tomboys; the girls who can sashay in heels and a mini skirt and kick some ass are the kinds that I'm drawn to. I didn't find many of those in the army; most of the females there were more accustomed to wearing pants.

But in Jules, I found a perfect combination. She was tough-as-nails when she wore the cool pants, but when it was all over, she went home in a skirt and some of the tiniest tank tops man ever made.

She was my sexy sniper chick.

But not anymore. It hurts to even say the words.

We'd gone from harmless flirtation to a deep friendship, and I found that Jules is one of the few people I can actually talk to. Really talk to. Scratch that, I think she's the only person I can actually talk to who doesn't judge, doesn't interrupt, and actually allows me to finish a sentence without saying anything.

After a while, it became more than just the sex. I began to crave her attention, her listening ear, just as much as I craved her body. I needed her understanding, her hugs of comfort, her quiet support even more than I needed the carnal pleasure.

I told her, just once. She'd merely smiled, given me a quick peck, and it was the end of discussion. There hadn't been any "I love yous" in return, and I pushed that aside, assuming she would tell me when the time was right. Looking back, I should've known better.

Jules always said what she felt and she never held back. I should've known, should've seen it coming, and in a perverse way, I think I did.

Somehow, it was always at the back of my mind that this would never last, never would be allowed to last, and never could be allowed to last.

Never dwelling on that thought meant that I could pretend it never existed, pretend it wasn't a reality, and I could focus my energy on the present.

But not now. Not anymore.

Because now we're back to just friends and having that sort of relationship status with the woman you love always cuts the deepest.

Because she's the piece that my heart is missing.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **My apologies for taking so long to update this… my muse simply just would not co-operate with me and it took a really long time before she came back. I know the original plot is about the love triangle between Sam/Jules/Steve, but for this piece, I find that including the other snippets between Sam/Jules is as important and as integral to the whole storyline, since it really gives us an insight as to how Sam feels about the whole breakup/Jules with another man scenario. So I've decided to give Sam's POV a go for this particular scene (I did one for Jules in "The Hardest Part" and always wanted to do Sam's POV, so this gave me the perfect excuse).

Spoilers for 2x07 "The Perfect Storm" included in this chapter.

Please read and review – those little reviews really keep me going, especially on the days when the muse doesn't show herself. I'm going to send out a special cookie to my 20th reviewer (if it ever gets there!)

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><p><em><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>_

Today is D-day.

It's the day that Jules is slated to return to work after months of medical leave, and it's the first day we're seeing each other since we officially called it quits between us. I took some time off, hoping that the break would clear my head, but the sun and sand didn't exactly do much in preparing me for the moment when I'll have to come face to face with my ex-girlfriend again.

I've never had this problem, since in all my previous relationships I've always been the first one to walk away. It's ironic how the only relationship I haven't felt the need to walk out on is also the same relationship where the woman leaves first.

So I'm at quite a loss as to what to expect. What do I say to her? What can I say to her – to a woman who broke my heart; a woman, whom, despite everything that's happened, I still feel deep respect, affection and love for?

She'll be professional, that's a given. This is the SRU, it's work, it's a job, and if it's anything we know how to do, it's our jobs. But what I don't know is how we'll interact without our commsets, when we're not talking entry tactics or discussing subjects. Will we still be joking, laughing, trading barbs and making fun of Spike's toys?

The thought of having to face her during twelve-hour shifts and know that I'm not going home to her is difficult to bear. It was easier, when she wasn't around. Donna wasn't Jules, and it was easier to forget that I was going home to an empty apartment when Jules wasn't around to remind me of that fact.

But now that she's back, everything changes. I'm no longer her colleague-slash-secret-boyfriend anymore. There can be no more stolen moments while cleaning rifle barrels and checking our ammo kits; no more secret glances during debriefings, and definitely no more heated encounters in her locker room.

Should I let her make the first move? Or should I seek her out instead, do what any teammate would do and give her a warm welcome back on her first day?

I should've known Jules. While I've been spending my time debating over the best way to make this day pass as quickly as possible, with as little interaction – and hence, less chance of awkwardness between us – as possible with Jules, she decides to invade the sanctity of the locker room where I've been deliberately taking my own sweet time, dallying over the simple task of getting dressed.

"Decent?"

I'm only half dressed, still looking for a clean shirt amidst the clutter of my locker, and if it had been any one other than Jules, I would've told them to come back later. But it's Jules, the woman I spent a good six months waking up in the morning next to, and there's nothing that she hasn't seen. Or touched.

That last thought sends an unexpected shiver down my spine, an unwelcome glimmer of an emotion I'd thought I had long buried. Now is not the time to be thinking about that, about the things of the past, so I clamp down on the thought, hoping to get my traitorous emotions under control before I have to come face to face with Jules.

She's biting her lower lip as she comes into view, a sure sign that she's both nervous and unsure. At least I'm not the only person who has been wondering about – and simultaneously dreading – this moment. It's scant comfort, but it helps knowing that she's at least just as uncomfortable as I am about the prospect of having to pretend that everything is all right between us. After all, as far as the team is concerned, there's no need for any discomfort between us because we've never been in a relationship that's less than professional.

I give her the once-over; it's more out of habit than anything else. She's back in shape, not that she was ever out of shape, since she still made an effort to keep to a strict exercise regime after she was discharged from the hospital and cleared for light activities.

Her hair is still the same length as I remembered it, and her face still as beautiful as the first day I met her. Nothing's changed about her, really.

I turn away from my locker, focusing my attention solely on her.

"So?" I ask. "First day back… you nervous?"

It seems like the most natural thing to ask her. I'm still concerned about her, especially about her mental health. I know she's definitely passed her psychological exam to be back on the team, but this is Jules, and she can fake her way through a lie detector test.

I wonder if she's picked up on it, but some part of is also curious to know if she's feeling any of the same butterflies that I am over our first encounter. It's a first day of sorts for both of us. I know she must be feeling some sort of apprehension, and it would make me feel much better to hear her say it.

"Nah," she answers, making a face. It's a typical Jules expression, but something in the way she doesn't meet my gaze directly tells me that her simple reply isn't all that she means it to be. And that is typically Jules, always hiding how she truly feels about the people around her and the situations she's in.

"So… I heard you took some time off." She coughs to cover up her nervousness, throwing out that knowledge casually, as if testing my response.

For a moment, I keep silent, a little surprised that she knows about that. I'm surprised that the other guys would even bother telling her that, but then again, maybe I shouldn't. It could just have been a harmless slip of the tongue that it was a "first day" of sorts for me too.

But what really throws me off my game is – why does she even care? It's not like we planned to take time off together anyway.

"Beaches and margaritas?" She continues, pushing on for an answer.

"Yeah, a little R & R", I finally tell her.

What I don't tell her is how I spent the days watching the hot babes in bikinis walk by me, but all I could think of was her. It wasn't truly a vacation, not when I was trying to run from my demons and the haunting presence that was Jules Callaghan. It wasn't truly a vacation, because she wasn't there with me.

"But I also went back to base," I confess, and her eyes dart up to meet mine, concern and worry reflected in their depths.

"Really? Wow, I thought you and your dad…"

I give an imperceptible shrug. "When the General summons, you don't say no."

For a moment, we're both silent, each of us contemplating the implications of what I've just said. I know she's worried about what it possibly means; even though our relationship isn't a bed of roses, I haven't been able to say no when the General sets down an order.

"What was that about?" The uncertainty is loud and clear in her tone.

"He pulled some strings, wants me back in the military, where I can _really_ make a difference." I can't keep the bitterness from my voice, and I know Jules has picked up on it.

She makes a face at my words, understanding my annoyance at the General's meddling in my life. But she chooses her next sentence carefully, trying to mask the unease she's feeling over the turn of our conversation and keep the concern out of her voice. "Nice. What'd you say?"

I can sense that she's holding her breath here, almost as if she's afraid of hearing my reply.

"I said I can make a difference here." I meet her gaze straight on, unflinching, trying to communicate to her, without words, what I actually mean.

Both of us know that it's not because of the difference I can make as an urban cop. Both of us know it's because of her – because of _us_ – that I'm staying. Even though we've broken up, I cannot turn my back on Jules any more than I can turn my back on this team, whom I've come to consider my family. I can't see myself, miles away, alone in a barren desert, trying to take out a target from two miles away. I need to be in the action, playing an active role, and I need to be close to Jules.

Because even though there's nothing personal between us anymore, I still feel like I'm responsible for her, and her safety. I cannot forget the sight of her blood on my hands, the guilt I will always feel for not protecting her that day on the roof, and I will be paying this debt back to her for as long as I live. So as long as she chooses to put her life on the line, every day, for the good of humanity, so I will – by her side, for her sake.

"Good for you." She finally breaks the stare between us, shifting uncomfortably at my revelation.

Another bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Well it ain't funny cos he'd heard me wrong. It didn't sound like 'Yes, sir'."

To say the rest of the conversation had been civil was an understatement. It gave me a headache just thinking about it. The General had not taken kindly to what he saw as insubordination, and my poor mother had spent the rest of the night trying to soothe things between us, as she always seemed to do.

While his request didn't surprise me, my reply did. It didn't even take a fraction of a second for me to deny the order. I am happy where I am; in the past year I've felt like the SRU has become a second home, a happier home, and I'm not ready to leave. Not just yet.

I turn back to my locker, not wanting to look at Jules. "Anyways, dealing with my dad… that was the easy part."

"What was the hard part?" Her voice has softened; her tone even more wary than before, if that's even possible. I know where this is heading, and I'm not sure if I should put myself out like that again and allow myself to be so vulnerable again.

I take my time, pulling my shirt over my head and closing the locker door before taking a deep breath and meeting her eyes, those deep brown eyes that seem to see right through you and straight into the depths of your soul. The eyes that haunted me every night since the day they no longer opened beside me in the morning.

I open my mouth, and my voice catches a little as I reply: "When my mom asked when she gets to meet you."

Jules stares at me, shocked at my confession, and suddenly I can't bear to look at her, afraid of what she might say. I don't want her pity, neither do I want her guilt. She made a decision for both of us, and while I didn't like it, I know she was only doing what both of us should have done. She was just braver than I was.

I walk away, the air in the locker room suddenly becoming too heavy for me to breathe comfortably in. Brushing past her in the process, our shoulders coming into light contact with each other, a familiar tingle runs up my spine.

I shrug it off, determined not to let any more memories of us and any more bittersweet emotions intrude upon my day. That part of my life is over, and I need to walk away from it.

Starting now.


End file.
